The pack sat in silence after Isaac ran off, each of them watching with a mix of relief and satisfaction. It was a small victory—one of the two had finally cracked, admitting the truth they'd all known for a while. Isaac had finally allowed himself to admit what had been gnawing at him for so long. Now, all they could do was wait and hope that both of them would find a way to move forward, to heal from the mess they had made of their bond.

Isaac had no trouble finding Quinn. He knew her well enough to know exactly where she would go when the weight of the world became too much for her to bear. It was the Lacrosse field, a place where they had both found solace during their early years of high school. When they had both been new to the chaos of the supernatural world, it had been their sanctuary, a place where they could just be themselves. It was where Quinn had gone when she needed to clear her mind, and Isaac knew this routine well. Since joining the team in their freshman year, it had become a special place for them both, and it had never lost that meaning, no matter how much life had changed.

Isaac approached the field quietly, his heart heavy with the conversation that had just taken place. He knew he couldn't fix things with words alone, so he chose silence instead, sitting down next to her without saying a word. He didn't want to force her to talk. He understood that sometimes the best thing he could do was just be there, silently offering his presence and waiting for her to open up when she was ready.

Quinn didn't look at him right away. Her gaze remained fixed on the empty field, the vastness of it somehow mirroring the vast emptiness she felt inside. She exhaled deeply, the sound almost a whisper. "Sometimes," she began, her voice quiet but steady, "I wonder what life would have been like if we had never taken the bite. If we had just stayed human, stayed out of all of this... If we had never felt the need to become werewolves to protect the people we care about."

Isaac sat quietly beside her, the words hanging between them like a cloud. He didn't know how to respond at first, but then he nodded. "I ask myself that a lot too," he said, his voice low, full of a quiet longing for what could have been.

Quinn turned her head slightly, her expression thoughtful as she looked at him. "But do you regret it?" she asked solemnly, her eyes meeting his.

Isaac paused, then shook his head, his voice sincere. "No. Do you?"

Quinn's lips curled into a small, bitter smile, and she let out a dry chuckle that didn't quite reach her eyes. "No," she admitted after a beat. "As much as I want to regret it, I can't. Because, in a way, I feel like I see the world for what it really is now."

Isaac furrowed his brow in confusion. "What do you mean?"

Quinn's gaze drifted back to the field, her eyes distant as she spoke, almost as if she were speaking to herself. "Isaac," she began, her voice soft but heavy with meaning, "when it was just you and me, it felt like it was us against the world. A world that seemed cruel, and unkind—a world we feared. But now..."

Isaac turned his full attention to her, sensing the shift in her tone. "It's still a fearful world," he said quietly, acknowledging the reality they both lived in. He knew that much had not changed. The world was still dangerous, still unpredictable, still capable of tearing them apart. But Quinn nodded, her eyes meeting his again, a slight glint of understanding in her gaze.

"It is," she agreed. "But it's also wonderful. Look at us—we're just a pair of goofballs who only ever really understood each other. And now, look at all the friends we've made. A whole group of unique people who, despite everything, still choose to stick by us."

Isaac glanced at her, his eyes softening as he listened. "But we found ourselves," he added, completing her sentence without hesitation, as though he knew exactly what she was going to say. He was right, of course. They had both found something they hadn't known they were looking for.

Quinn smiled, her hand brushing his in a gesture that felt more intimate than she had intended. "Exactly," she said. "We found our own families. You, with Derek and your old pack... and me, with the Alpha Pack, even if it's only half of what it used to be."

Isaac's eyes widened at her words, surprised by the depth of her sentiment. "You see them as a family?" he asked, his voice filled with disbelief.

Quinn half-smiled, nodding. "I do," she said softly. "They may not be perfect, but they're mine. That's why I got so angry when I saw them fighting. Aiden can be an asshole, but... he's my brother."

Isaac blinked, taken aback by her words. "Just a brother?" he asked without thinking, his voice laced with curiosity. It wasn't until the words left his mouth that he realized how much he had been paying attention to Quinn's relationships—especially with Aiden.

Quinn didn't seem bothered by the question at all. "Well, yeah," she replied. "He was more than what Quinton ever could have been. Even though we started off as enemies, the twins—Aiden and Ethan—they became my family. In a twisted, messed-up way, they became my family."

Isaac listened carefully, his expression serious as he processed her words. "I know we've both changed a lot, Isaac," Quinn continued. "And as much as it hurts to say it, we've grown apart."

Isaac's heart sank at her words. He had been thinking the same thing, but hearing it from her made it feel all the more real. "So, we can never go back to being just Quinn and Isaac?" he asked quietly, almost afraid to hear the answer.

Quinn turned to him, her eyes softening with a mixture of understanding and sadness. "We will always be Quinn and Isaac," she said gently. "We'll always be the two broken souls against the world. But I think it's better to say that we're two broken souls who proved that we're not unfixable. We've shown the world who's in control now—us."

Isaac looked at her, unsure of how to respond. A part of him still feared that they wouldn't be able to make it through all their doubts and differences. "How are we going to get through all of this?" he asked, his voice thick with uncertainty. "I know these disagreements we've had will only keep coming. And it scares me, Quinn. I'm afraid that one day we won't be able to handle it anymore, and we'll just... leave each other."

Quinn took his hand in both of hers, her grip firm and reassuring. She turned to face him fully, her eyes steady as she spoke. "Come on, Isaac. Give us a little more credit. We've been through hell and back. Sure, you left me behind for a while, but I picked myself up and walked that path on my own, just like you did."

Isaac's brow furrowed in confusion. "What?" he asked, not quite following her.

Quinn smiled softly, her gaze never wavering from his. "Isaac, just because you had your pack doesn't mean you never felt alone. You were alone in your own way, just like I was."

Isaac opened his mouth to argue, but Quinn stopped him with a gentle touch on his arm. "Scott told me," she said quietly. "He told me that even though you seemed so happy, he could see that you were just pretending everything was fine. And when he told me that, I got angry at myself, thinking I was the only one hurting."

Isaac's face softened with understanding, but his voice still trembled with emotion. "My situation could never compare to yours, Quinn," he said, his voice breaking. "I still had people to turn to. You didn't."

Quinn shook her head, her thumb lightly tracing the back of his hand. "That's true. But try to see it from my side. I'm not easy to convince or befriend. If I were in your shoes, I'd be a mess. But the path I took was my own, just like yours was your own. We've both had to learn to navigate this world, and no matter how much we've changed, we both know there are parts of us that will never change."

Isaac let out a shaky breath, his heart racing with emotion. "When you say things like that, it's hard for me not to love you," he blurted out before he could stop himself. He looked at her, his words hanging in the air like a fragile confession.

Quinn looked up at him, her eyes wide with surprise. "What did you say?" she asked slowly, her voice soft but filled with disbelief.

Isaac's heart pounded in his chest as he realized what he had just admitted. "I love you," he said again, this time with more certainty. "And it's not the kind of 'I love you' like family or friends."

Quinn stared at him, her mouth slightly open in shock. "You love me?" she repeated as if to make sure she heard him correctly.

Isaac nodded, his hand tightening around hers. "I think I've loved you for a long time," he said, mimicking Lydia's tone with a wry smile.

Quinn shook her head, her lips curving into a soft smile. "It's about damn time you realized it, Isaac Lahey," she said, her tone teasing. "You're the most frustrating person in the world. I thought Scott was dense, but you just took the crown."

Isaac blinked, completely thrown off by her words. "Wait, what?" he asked, his mind racing to catch up.

Quinn laughed, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "The way you look at Scott, the way you get possessive over any guy who talks to me—it all made sense. I knew, even if I didn't have all the answers."

Isaac's eyes widened as he processed her words. "So, you knew the whole time?" he asked, his voice tinged with disbelief.

"Well, not the whole time," Quinn admitted, smiling softly. "But I had my suspicions. You've always been my same old Isaac—the clumsy fool who I've loved for a long time."

Isaac's jaw dropped, his heart leaping in his chest. "You loved me?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

Quinn shook her head, her expression softening as she reached for his shirt. "No, Isaac," she said softly, "I love you." And with that, she pulled him toward her, closing the distance between them and connecting her lips to his in a kiss that felt like everything they had been holding back for so long.

Isaac froze for a moment, overwhelmed by the sudden rush of emotions, but then he melted into the kiss, his arms wrapping around her as he kissed her back, this time fully in control, finally feeling the satisfaction of everything falling into place.